Illinois – With the Ryder Cup due to start at the Medinah Country Club this week, American golfing legend Tiger Woods declared he was in ‘great shape’ and really looking forward to playing with the US Ryder Cup Team, and their wives.

The US Ryder Cup wives get ready to meet sex addict Tiger Woods.

“It’s always a thrill for me to represent America in the Ryder Cup,” declared Woods. “When I stand at the pre-tournament ceremony and see my team-mates saluting the flag, I know I couldn’t have asked for eleven better comrades-in-arms. I mean, did you see the women they brought with them?”

Wrapping the Stars and Stripes around his ebony golf shaft, Woods added in an exaggerated Southern drawl: “Some of their wives are also going to be saluting Old Glory this weekend.”

Woods is one of the greatest golfers in the history of the game, having won 14 majors and 74 PGA Tour events. However, his career took a nosedive after it emerged that he had been cheating on his wife with cheaper, skankier versions of his wife.

Asked about his sexual obsession with leggy blondes, Woods said: “You need me to explain this? Man, you country club types are bigger fags than I thought.”

The scandal rocked the US golfing establishment, whose wives are all cheaper, skankier versions of Tiger’s ex. Many leading golfers remain ambivalent about having Tiger Woods represent America.

“It’s a tough one,” admitted US captain Davis Love III. “I mean, on the one hand, the guy’s clearly the greatest player in the world. On the other hand, he’s also the greatest player in the world, if you know what I mean.”

Woods’ former wife, and the knock-off version of his wife he slept with ‘for a taste of something different.’

“That’s why the guys like having Tiger out on the course with them. If he’s playing a four-iron to the fifth green, you know he isn’t spreading your wife over the hotel breakfast table like marmalade on his black pudding.”

Mr. Love III then denied there was any racist element to his simile, saying that marmalade on black pudding was a staple of the American country club scene.

Some of the golfers on the team weren’t so sanguine about the prospect of Woods hanging around this week. Three-time US Masters winner Phil Mickelson said that it was time American golfers took a stand against immoral behaviour.

“Look, no one can deny Tiger Woods is a great golfer,” said Mickelson. “But it’s bad for team morale to have someone so reprehensible among us. His reckless promiscuity could set a bad example for others, like children, or more importantly our wives.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust my wife,” added Mickelson, looking around anxiously as he spoke. “Love happens between overweight middle-aged men and sexy young blonde cheerleaders all the time. There’s no reason why she’d ever sleep with a younger, richer, better-looking, more successful and very well-hung black athlete.”

“Hey, has anyone seen Amy?” asked Mr. Mickelson, suddenly standing up. He then dashed from the press conference clutching his cellphone, which rang without response.

Olazabal taking care of the European Ryder Cup wives.

European team captain Jose Maria Olazabal said that some members of his team were also worried by the threat of Tiger Woods. “Hey, I’m Spanish, so I know mi esposa is satisfied by my fiery Latin passion,” said the cocky Olazabal. “But some of those, how you say, pasty little hobbits from UK are getting worried, maybe rightly so. Rory McIlroy’s dating Caroline Wozniacki, and she’s right up Tiger’s alley.”

“Not to worry, I take good care of your wives for you while you play golf,” he said reassuringly.

Woods, however, remained unconcerned by the panic his presence was causing in the rooster house. “Hey, some of their wives are a little nervous, too, at first,” grinned Woods. “But they soon get over it.”

New York – For days they have waited, sleeping rough on the pavement eating fast food out of Styrofoam cartons in the hope of being among the first people in the world to own an iPhone 5. Now, as the moment approaches, the Apple customers who have waited so patiently in line are united by one desire – to go home.

Enthusiasm for the iPhone 5 has waned dramatically among waiting nerds.

“Honestly, it is really starting to stink down here,” complained Janine Corman (21), a graphic design student from NYU. “When I first got down here four days ago, I was all like ‘Wooh! I’m fifteenth in line for the iPhone 5!’ Now, I really, really just want the guys here to stop peeing in the trashcan.”

“I hope the iPhone has an app for burning out short-term memories,” she added with a shudder.

Members of the line said that the initial buzz of excitement had worn off quickly.

“Yeah, we’ve been here for three days now,” said Mark Dinkins (24), who travelled all the way from Connecticut to buy the iPhone 5 at the iconic New York Apple store on Fifth Avenue. “I mean, this is the defining moment of our generation! Just as the iPhone 6 will be for next year’s generation.”

Brain addled by years of Pepsi advertising, Mr. Dinkins explained why he wanted to get the iPhone 5 so badly. “I really need to get to a hospital,” he confided. “Sleeping on the sidewalk is killing my back. And I haven’t been able to move my left foot since this morning.”

“But I think the iPhone 5 has some kind of chiropractic app, so it should be OK,” he said optimistically, gritting his teeth through the pain.

Aside from the physical discomfort, queue members have started to become increasingly irritated with each other.

A forlorn Jacob Wankstein wonders why people always try to shit on his stuff.

“I’m a pretty cool guy, but there are some real haters throwing shade here,” said Jacob Wankstein (28), who describes his profession as ‘hipster.’ “There I was, playing my Pan pipes yesterday, when the guy next to me just took a crap right on top of zucchini and bean sprout salad.”

Mr. Wankstein then started crying as he discovered a turd in his sleeping bag in the shape of a Swastika.

Although his neighbours in the queue remained indifferent, help appeared in the form of some Apple enthusiasts from Occupy Wall Street.

“Yeah, we were just down at Zuccotti Park fighting the capitalist exploitation of the American worker and the privilege of the ivory tower elites,” drawled Gina Gothering (20) while her fellow rebels against the system nodded coolly. “But, the Occupy Wall Street anniversary did clash with the iPhone 5 release. I mean, what are you going to do?”

“But we can fight for justice here, too,” she said, taking her stand next to Mr. Wankstein.

“Hey, those Occupy Wall Street bitches are trying to jump the queue!” yelled plumber Joe Grimes (46). There followed a mass brawl between Occupy Wall Street and a group of working class Americans, while Mr. Wankstein tried to soothe frayed nerves by furiously playing Frankie goes to Hollywood’s Relax on his Pan pipes.

But for those who got their hands on the fabled iPhone 5, it all seemed worth it. Henry Klingman (19), who has been at the head of the queue for four days, was ecstatic when he finally emerged from the store with his new phone.

“Oh man, there were times there when I didn’t think I was going to make it,” sobbed Mr. Klingman. “Nights were the worst. I think someone even got gang-raped at one point. But this is the greatest moment of my life – now I can finally go home!”

He opened the new Apple maps app and paused: “Wait, what the fuck am I doing in Wisconsin?” he asked, looking around at the skyscrapers in confusion.

Global protests erupted this week as Muslim communities across the world rioted at the hypocritical and anti-Islamic Western media bias, which continues to mock Muslims by revealing the existence of nude Kate Middleton photos without showing them.

Muslim men protest in Egypt holding a banner demanding “Right to a free press, Kate’s breasts.”

One demonstrator, Muammar Farali (23), said that the suppression of nude Kate photos was clearly an assault on the Islamic community.

“This is typical of the West’s blatant hostility to Islam,” said Mr. Farali, an engineering student from Cairo. “Do you know how hard it is being a strict Muslim man? Our religion forbids drinking, smoking, and taking drugs, and all the bitches have been in purdah since the age of 12. If my balls don’t get to release soon, they are just going to explode!”

“And then, just as I’m thinking that, the BBC tells me that there are nude pictures of Kate Middleton out there? And then they don’t show them? Death to the infidels!” A large crowd of young men roared in support.

Senior figures in the Islamic world have also condemned the West for abandoning the principle of a free press. Leading human rights activist Tariq Habub (41) said that a vital democratic issue was at stake.

“We Muslims believe absolutely in free speech and open governance,” said Mr. Habub. “That’s why we deplore moves by Western media corporations to refrain from publishing these photos. Nothing is more important to a healthy, functioning society than free expression and freedom of information.”

“The people have a right to see Kate’s tits!” he cried passionately, while the crowd chanted: “Free press, free breasts.”

The head of the Muslim Council for Women’s Rights, Lerila Noor (52), said that the treatment of Kate Middleton was typical of the West’s degrading attitudes towards women.

“Islam respects the female body,” said Ms. Noor in an interview at her offices in Riyadh. “That’s why we cover it up from head to toe, so the foul Western paparazzi can’t get shots of us in the nip.”

“But in the West women are simply objectified sex objects,” she said in dismay. “Has anyone in the Western media ever had any interest in what Kate Middleton has to say, in who she is as a person? No, they just treat her like a fashion exhibition on legs.”

“The only way for Western women to fight this gender oppression is to take control of their own objectification, like Lady Gaga. Don’t hide it, flaunt it! Parade those tits and arses on your own terms,” she said as the surrounding members of the Muslim Council for Women’s Rights peeled their burqas off and posed suggestively for the flashing cameras.

The Muslim Council for Women’s Right attacks the sexist Western media.

This heady combination of free speech, women’s rights activists, and Kate Middleton’s lissom nudity has ignited large-scale protests across the world for the right of Muslims everywhere to enjoy unobscured views of Kate’s breasts.

However, major Western media outlets remain firm in their stance against radical Islamic demands for free speech. At a news conference today, head of the BBC ethics committee, Sir Jenkins Royston-Hodgson, said: “No way are those camel jockeys allowed to feast their beady eyes on our Princess Kate. There is such a thing as decency! Although I wouldn’t expect those smelly Muslims to know anything about that.”

Dublin – Irish Taoiseach Enda Kenny confronted allegations that the ‘Constitutional Convention’ for political reform was a toothless sideshow by declaring that the convention had been given full authority to recommend sweeping changes to the Dáil cafeteria menu.

Said Kenny: “Four years ago, our nation went bankrupt thanks to major institutional failures, particular in our system of governance. Fine Gael knew then that major changes needed to be changed. We heard your cries for change and change is coming.”

“The Constitutional Convention will change, radically, the fundamental linchpin of Irish political culture and the single most vital ingredient of a properly functioning democracy – the selection, composition, and function of the Dáil.”

“Cafeteria menu,” he added hastily, after being prompted by an alarmed Eamon Gilmore.

“Change,” repeated Gilmore, after an awkward pause.

Critics had previously accused the government of giving the Convention only peripheral issues, such as blasphemy, to deal with.

“I disagree strongly with those criticisms,” said Mr. Kenny sternly. “Blasphemy is a real challenge to our society. Jesus Christ, it may be second only to the total collapse of the Irish economy due to corruption, flawed institutions, and incompetence!”

“But some people still think the Convention is only allowed a menu of marginal reforms, rather than reforms of the menu itself. Well, I swear by the unsoiled pubes of the Virgin Mary that the Convention will have full control of Dáil menu reform!”

Opposition leader Micheál Martin was quick to denounce the new proposal as ‘a radical threat to Irish democracy.’

Said Mr. Martin: “The Dáil menu is one of the signature achievements of previous Fianna Fáil governments. The sumptuous five-course lunches with open bars are the only thing that ensure our TDs occasionally enter the parliament.”

“If the Convention were to scrap veal tenderloin Tuesday, then – Jesus’ gay sandals! – this place would be a ghost town.”

Some leading commentators agreed vigorously with Mr. Martin. “Reform of the Dáil cafeteria menu could be disastrous!” thundered RTE political correspondent Noel Knowles through a mouthful of apple crumble. “Do you know how boring it is being stuck on the Dáil watch? Holy Joseph’s balls! Sure, those parish gombeen men have nothing to say, even when they do show up.”

“If it wasn’t for the tender quail breast in lemon sauce on Fridays I’d never make it through the week.”

Political scientists, however, cautiously welcomed the proposal. “Statistics do indicate that there may be a connection between the Dáil menu and the collapse of the Irish economy,” said Prof. Gavin Frumprock of UCD. “I mean, did you see the fat bastards who were running the country then? Every extra kilo correlated with another thousand euros off the average family income. No wonder we were buggered like altar boys.”

“Cowen and Harney alone probably ate the national pension fund,” he added gloomily.

Brian Cowen and Mary Harney look at each other guiltily when asked where the national pension fund went.

Skeptics argue that the Convention is structured in such a way as to prevent any meaningful reform of the Dáil menu.

“Just look at the make-up of the Convention,” said reform activist Ian Gormley (36). “One-third of the people in it are sitting TDs. There’s no way they’re going to vote for austerity measures like Australian cabernet sauvignon on the wine list. It’s Chateau Lafite or nothing for that lot.”

“Not only that, but they’re only allowing the Convention to ‘propose’ changes to the Dáil. Let’s see what happens if the Convention proposes getting rid of filet mignon on Thursdays and replacing it with porridge. That would save a lot of money and show leadership by example. Will it happen? Did Mary blow the disciples one-by-one at the foot of the cross?”

The Taoiseach, however, denied that his government would reject any proposed austerity measures for politicians that arose from the Convention.

“If the people say we must eat cake,” said the Taoiseach with kingly wisdom, “then let us eat cake.”

Dublin – As Queen Elizabeth II makes the first royal visit to Ireland in over one hundred years, British and Irish republicans clashed on O’Connell Street yesterday in an awkward moment of solidarity.

Witnesses said the encounter was quite accidental, but rapidly became a social quagmire from which neither party could easily extricate itself. As protesters released black balloons into the air and belted out rebel songs, a man with a distinctly English posture and bearing wandered into the assembled mass of fiery republicans, instantly causing a sudden delicate frostiness.

Huntington-Fauntleroy's orange skirt immediately made him stand out from the other republicans.

“Yes, quite right!” shouted the British republican Cedric Huntington-Fauntleroy, his clear English enunciation cutting through the thick mumbled accents of the crowd like a joke by Prince Philip at a convention for political correctness. “Down with the monarchy, I say!”

Huntington-Fauntleroy then adopted the classic Marquess of Queensbury pose and hit the air with a few left jabs followed by a right cross before looking around in satisfaction at his fellow air-punchers, who were slowly lowering their hands and backing away in confusion.

“Wha’ de fook…?” asked a gobsmacked Marty Delaney (43), leader of the protest, as the tricolour wrapped around his shoulders slid off to reveal a Manchester United jersey.

“Oh, haha, that’s it, my good man, don’t be afraid to turn the air blue, what?” shouted Huntington-Fauntleroy, hitting the bewildered air with a classical right hook. “Damn the Queen’s English – let us have the English of the common man, of republicanism!”

The crowd looked at each other uncertainly and then to Marty Delaney for some kind of guidance. “Are you sure you’re in de roight place?” asked Delaney.

Huntington-Fauntleroy has been a republican since he was blackballed by the royal polo club.

“Oh, wouldn’t miss it!” said Huntington-Fauntleroy jauntily. “I had no idea such a gathering was afoot, but whoever wishes to protest the iniquitous privileges of those antiquated institutions, the monarchy and the aristocracy, has found a bosom companion in Cedric Huntington-Fauntleroy.”

“Rouse the rabble on, good fellow!” he shouted as the air turned still.

The awkward silence apparently stretched for a full minute, broken only by an occasional cough. One of the remaining black balloons deflated quietly on stage with a slow sighing gasp and many in the crowd fixed their attention on it until it was just a limp, wrinkled sack of latex.

Huntington-Fauntleroy himself became aware that his presence had yet again, and for reasons he never quite understood, caused the party to come grinding to a halt. But, in the classic British manner, having introduced himself he could not simply say goodbye without having made some kind of acceptable small talk, however excruciating for all concerned.

“And who are these chaps over here?” he asked, pointing to a group of protesters across the street. “Are they with us?”

Sadly, Éirígí (Arise) seemed unaware of the Swiftean irony of having a sit-down protest.

Another awkward silence hung over them all like a tombstone seen from the bottom of an unfilled grave, before one lone voice finally answered from the back. “Dey’re de socialist republican democrats,” said a strong Dublin accent. “Deir name’s Éirígí. It means ‘Arise.’ Dey’re having a sit-down protest.”

“Hoho!” chortled Huntington-Fauntleroy. “What wit! Reminiscent of Swift and Wilde, eh? Éirígí!” he shouted across the street, gesturing for the sit-down protesters to stand up. “Éirígí,hahaha,” he guffawed, before realising that perhaps it wasn’t meant as a piece of Swiftean satire and the humour drained slowly from his face as the awkward silence descended once more like a black cloud of unending gloom.

Whole minutes passed with nothing but the sound of shuffling shoes to fill them. Then the Queen and Prince Philip drove by, waved to the deathly silent crowd, and disappeared round the corner.

“Well, must be off,” said Huntington-Fauntleroy, seeing his chance. He tipped his hat and scooted away, while the listless crowd dispersed slowly, knowing that nothing had changed, and that Ireland would never truly escape the frightfully well-mannered but socially awkward yoke of the British aristocracy.

Düsseldorf, Germany – As Azerbaijan celebrates being the first Central Asian country to win the Eurovision Song Contest, die-hard fans of the competition’s trite pop, malfitting costumes, and antic stage routines lamented the poor showing of Moldova.

The small Eastern European country lived down to the finest traditions of the Eurovision with a cheesy combo of rockin’ rappers singing in pidgin English while wearing giant dunce’s hats, before wowing Eurovision fans with a trumpet solo by a girl dressed as a fairy princess on a unicycle.

“Moldova just ticked all of our boxes,” said Michael Jaeger (47), head of Fans for the Real Eurovision, a continent-wide grouping of people dedicated to fighting the growing trend towards emphasising music and performance ability in the assessment of European music.

“From the medallions dangling pendulously between their knees like glittering scrotums to not being able to afford a stool for the drummer, Moldova really excelled itself this year and deserved at least a top three placing.”

“And, of course, the trumpeting unicycling fairy princess should have put it over the top and given it victory,” he added, to emphatic nods of agreement from Fans for the Real Eurovison, who looked depressed and angry at how the voting had gone.

"Is that the Israeli transsexual or the Irish guy?" asked Jaeger, scratching his head.

Previous winners of the Eurovision have included an Israeli transsexual, a Russian ice-skating on a small puddle, and Ireland. However, fans are worried that a growing number of Eastern European countries are taking the competition seriously, thereby raising performances to an unacceptable standard.

“They’re just not getting into the spirit of the Eurovision,” complained Jaeger. “I mean, at first I thought Azerbaijan was going down the traditional sexy girl route to Eurovision glory – short low-cut flouncy billowing dresses, and plenty of ‘em – but then some fag in a white suit showed up in the middle of them.”

“You can’t mix the ‘sexy girl’ with the ‘flaming queer guy’ approach, unless you do what Israel did and make them one person – Dana International.”

Jaeger also expressed disappointment at those traditional enemies of Europe, France, for sending someone who could actually sing. “The moment he hit that first note with a clear, ringing, operatic tenor voice I nearly vomited,” said Jaeger, looking visibly nauseous. “I mean, who do the French think they are?”

"What is that fag doing mixed in with the sexy girls?!" yelled an enraged Jaeger.

“They’ve just been pissed off ever since Abba won it with Waterloo back in ’74, but that was no reason to send a singer to the European Song Contest.”

“They’re just trying to ruin it for everybody else,” he added bitterly.

Many expressed dismay that traditional favourites had failed to make much of an impact. Former man and winner, Dana International of Israel, failed to make it past the semi-final stage. Ireland’s all-non-singing, all-non-dancing duo Jedward failed to live up to the hype, despite obviously forgetting their dance routines at one point.

“Well, the transsexual thing had been done, so Israel needs to up its game,” said Jaeger with a shrug. “And Ireland, while sending an entry to compete with the worst, still had an air of neediness about it this year, like they were trying too hard.”

“I mean, no one can be that shit by accident,” he added sceptically.

"Sorry, Ireland were just trying too hard to be shit this year," said Jaeger dismissively.

Fans for the Real Eurovision are mounting a campaign to recognise Moldova’s efforts this year and restore Eurovision to its former troughs of greatness.

“Look, some of those performances on Saturday weren’t that bad!” said Jaeger in disgust. “If they get any better, some of these acts might be just plain lousy. Then we might have an evening of lousy bands playing imitations of music, and we can get that an open-mic night in our local pubs.”

“Do you want to spend a Saturday evening in May listening to Europe’s best open-mic performers?” he shouted, to cries of “Never!” from increasingly frustrated fans who were riding around him on unicycles, blowing trumpets and waving their dunce’s hats in support of Moldova.

Buckingham Palace, London – After watching Ireland successively humiliate England in cricket, racing, and rugby, the Queen called today for the people of England to devote all their energies to beating the Irish at hurling by 2025.

“Too long has one let the Irish taunt one at one’s own games,” declared the Queen with the thin-lipped bitterness of someone who lost a fair bit of her pension when the Irish swept the card on the opening day of Cheltenham.

“And it avails one nought to beat them in return, for they care not for the sports themselves. The gentle smack of leather on willow, the masterful riding of heaving stallions, the sweaty pursuit of oddly shaped balls – these simple yet beloved English pastimes are not valued by the Irish. They care only for the gloating when they win.”

“Paddy does love to have good old gloat,” added the Queen in a burning whisper as she replayed the final overs of Ireland’s famous defeat of the English cricket team in her mind.

“But one cannot have the posterior of one’s most royal sporting dignity so brazenly molested by a bunch of Micks, in full view of the world,” continued the Queen. “We must hit them where it hurts – in their sliotars.”

“I call on the people of England to devote all their energies to beating the Irish at hurling by 2025.”

A leather-clad Willow said she hoped the English found a new pastime soon.

News of the Queen’s speech at first raised mocking laughter across Ireland, swiftly followed by a deep sense of unease.

“Although,” he added, scratching his head, “hurling hasn’t exactly had the best few years here. I mean, there’s only Kilkenny left in Leinster, the North may as well be playing tiddlywinks, and Connacht hasn’t got enough wood to make a single hurley.”

“And an awful lot of good young players have headed off to England because of the recession,” he added gloomily. “Jesus, you know, if they made all them English and set up a league for them, they wouldn’t be half bad.”

Loughnane shuddered involuntarily at the thought of the Queen hoisting the McCarthy Cup over Croke Park. “Ah, no, Ger, cop on, get a grip,” he muttered to himself. “Sure, it couldn’t really happen, could it?”

In a bid to forestall even the possibility that the English might put together a decent team and challenge for the All-Ireland championships, new Taoiseach Enda Kenny apologised to the English people for any recent upsets.

Kenny winked and said his discussions with the Queen on the hurling issue had been positive.

“We would, you know, like to say, cap in hand and hand on heart and heart in mouth, sure, that without eating our hats we’re sorry about batin’ ye out of shite recently in all sorts of sports,” said Kenny with his usual off-the-cuff mastery of the English language.

“I hope we can maintain our gentleman’s aggrievement that we only play the sports that matter to the English, and in which defeat doesn’t bother us at all.”

The Queen, however, was having none of Kenny’s confusing attempt to weasel Ireland out of its difficulties.

“Oh, it’s ON,” answered the Queen, glaring directly into the camera. “It’s on, bitches. You can’t go around trying to pretend that it’s not on, when it very much fucking is on.”

“IT’S ON!” repeated the Queen, before setting fire to a toy leprechaun’s crotch and clubbing it to death with the microphone.

Ireland's sliotars wait hopelessly for the English backlash.

Under the Queen’s direction, England has now organised Ireland’s ex-patriot hurlers into a nationwide league with a minimum wage of €50,000 for each player, a national academy of excellence for promising youngsters, and regular coverage on Sky.

A shellshocked Ger Loughnane reviewed England’s plans for hurling domination and acknowledged that Ireland couldn’t hope to compete with the English Premier Hurling League.

“That’s the bitch about being Irish,” said Loughnane bitterly. “Even the good stuff, like beating the English, rebounds to hit you right in the sliotars.”